


Stark Trek: Section 31

by flapdragon473



Series: Stark Trek [2]
Category: Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flapdragon473/pseuds/flapdragon473
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Vulcan's destruction, Rosalina Stark must adapt to life back on Earth. How will her job in Admiral Marcus' secretive organisation affect her, and will she be able to keep her family and friends safe? Set between Star Trek and Into Darkness. Sequel to Stark Trek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Weaving in and out of the crowd, Rosalina Stark sped towards the Kelvin Memorial Archives. She couldn’t afford to be late; not again. If Admiral Marcus could afford to lose such a ‘valuable asset’, as he called her, then she would certainly have been fired already. After a year of late nights finishing mountains of paperwork, she was starting to lapse in her ability to wake on time. Clutching her collection of Padds to her chest, Rosalina dodged one last business man as she entered the library. The Archive had been built to honour the service men, women and other gender-variants who had died in their service to the Federation. Its function as a secret Starfleet research facility was known only to a select few; those who worked there had to pass thousands of security checks. Either that or they were blackmailed into silence, like she was. The Admiralty certainly knew how to deal out threats.

 

The colony on New Vulcan was now thriving, with a small Science Academy set up. Ambassador Sarek had offered her a job as a lecturer there, but with Admiral Marcus’ offer, she had to turn it down. Spock had agreed that the investigation should be put above all other projects. Besides, the Great Loss had just made Vulcans more protective of their culture; having a human teaching at their most prestigious establishment when it was just getting restarted may well be a step too far. With the USS Enterprise back in full operation, she never saw Spock; even their once-regular Comm calls had fallen by the wayside, mostly down to their busy schedules. Her father kept her up to speed on how the crew was doing, but she missed having friends. The few Vulcans she had got to know whilst at the academy had perished. Feeling her eyes welling up for the thousandth time, Rosalina steeled herself. There was no point in dwelling on the past; they were gone, and she remained. This was a simple fact. Her work took precedent over all else.

 

She slipped through the closing elevator doors, scanning her fingerprint and pushing the button for the research floor. They had upgraded to biometrics shortly after she had hacked their systems and infiltrated the facility. As it purred into life, she moved towards the back and stood straight, actively avoiding eye contact with the guard already in the compartment. Most of the Starfleet security officers here were Brits with highly military-based training. She had endured a month of ‘physical conditioning’ before being allowed to work here; all personnel received advanced hand-to-hand combat training and bi-monthly booster sessions to keep them up to date. When the doors finally opened, she walked briskly to her private workroom. The Admiral had insisted she have it; whether to keep her from getting distracted, or make it easier to control how much she knew about Sector 31’s operations, she wasn’t quite certain. Arranging her Padds on the desk, she moved over to the bench. Her work from yesterday was seemingly untouched, but a quick scan showed that the usual security officers had done a sweep of the room. The complete lack of fingerprints was a dead giveaway. She was somewhat hurt that the Admiral didn’t trust her, but it was a small price to pay. The Arc-reactor research she was able to do here would help further Starfleet’s technological progression, and that must be her focus.

 

A quiet chime from her Comm unit snapped her back to reality. Continuing with her work, she called for JARVIS to read her the message. When the familiar voice failed to answer, she sighed and went to read the message manually. The AI wasn’t allowed into the facility for security reasons. It was only when she was no longer able to make use of the technology that she realised just how dependant she had become on him. The short message was a request for her attendance at a conference on the other side of the city; obviously she was expected to give a speech of some sort. Great. Something else she had to work on. Another chime reminded her of the meeting she had to attend this morning, reporting her progress to the Admiral. One of the charades they played to keep up appearances. He knew exactly what she was doing at all times, thanks to the ridiculously high level of security. That and the daily search of her work area. Sighing in exasperation, Rosalina grabbed the nearest Padd and headed to the Admiral’s office.

 

* * *

 

After a long day at work, the last thing she needed was to have to write a speech. Unfortunately, that is _exactly_ what she had to do. Booting up her laptop, she decided to unwind by attempting to make her own dinner. JARVIS must have sensed her intentions because a suit was soon by her side, fire extinguisher in hand.

 

“Thank you for your confidence in my culinary abilities, JARVIS.”

 

_“If I may remind you of the popcorn incident, Miss Stark…”_

 

“I had that fire completely under control…”

 

_“Of course.”_

 

“Are you sassing me, J?”

 

_“Not at all, Miss Stark. Shall I read you Lady Amanda’s recipe for Plomeek soup?”_

 

“Oh, JARVIS. You read my mind.”

 

It was the only thing she could actually manage to make, though it had taken her quite a while to master it. Amanda had spent months teaching both her and Nyota how to make the soup with her altered recipe, allowing them to use terran vegetables in place of the Vulcan ones needed. Nyota was, seemingly, a natural in the kitchen, much to Amanda’s delight. Rosalina’s attempts became increasingly edible as time went by; even Thor wasn’t brave enough to taste it at first, and Steve’s kind words of encouragement helped spur her on. Now, she was able to enjoy her favourite Vulcan meal in her own home. It still wasn’t as good as Amanda’s, but it was palatable. Maybe she’d even manage to cook and eat it without breaking down, eventually. Memories of her lost friends always bubbled to the surface when she smelt the aroma of the soup, the memories of that day crippling her emotions. The worst nightmares had subsided with the help of her therapist, but they returned in full force when she least expected it. Her respect for her father had grown even more now that she understood what he battled against every day. This PTSD business was horrible.

 

Feeling the tears welling in her eyes, she left the suit to finish off the soup. Writing a speech may not be very interesting, but it would distract her at least. It was difficult working at a secret research facility; whenever anyone asked how her day went or what she does now, her answers were always vague. It would be nice to have someone to confide in about the stress she was under, but none of the others really spoke to her. Whether this was out of fear or spite she didn’t know; the general consensus seemed to be that her father had got her the job. That was irritating, especially as he had no idea about the place, but she could hardly tell them the real reason. Just as she was finishing the intro, her Comm chimed. The contact was unknown, which put her on edge. After JARVIS confirmed that there was no virus attached to the message, she opened the file. Seemingly, it was encrypted. Interesting. After a few moments she had cracked it, and a simple message was displayed on her screen;

 

 2000 hours, the Hilton, room 278.

We have much to discuss.

A friend.

 

Odd. Who was this person, and how did they manage to get her contact details? The fact that the message had been encrypted made her even more suspicious. It was obviously meant for her eyes only. After another hour of writing, curiosity got the better of her. Putting the soup in her stasis unit for later and grabbing a jacket, she left her apartment and started walking.

 

* * *

 

 

The weight of the Phaser in her pocketed hand was comforting as she made her way through the darkening streets. Rounding the corner, she realised just how ridiculous this was. Why the hell had she thought this was a good idea? Wandering around London in the dead of night; had she completely lost her mind? Rationalising that it was too late to turn back now, she pushed open the hotel doors and entered the lobby. Her Aunt Natasha had taught her that you should always walk with purpose in a situation like this. If you look like you know where you’re going, nobody will question you. Luckily she knew where the lifts were from a previous visit, so she walked straight to them. It would make sense that the room she was looking for would be on the third floor. Or the second, as the Brits called it. Thinking about it that made more sense; the ground floor being on the ground and all. The lift doors opened onto an empty corridor. Room 242 was directly in front of her, and 243 to its right, so she quickly moved down the left hand corridor. Finding the room, she knocked hesitantly. The sound of the door unlatching came only seconds later; clearly whoever this was had been waiting. Her guts tied in knots as the door cracked open. The room was dark, but she could see a face peering out. The door opened fully and she found herself walking into the room. Hearing the door close and the lights blink into life, she turned to see a woman around her own age standing by the door. Her bobbed blonde hair swayed slightly as she approached the sofa, smiling as she passed. Once the stranger was seated, she beckoned for Rosalina to join her. With a sudden swell of courage, she pulled out her phaser and aimed it at the other woman’s face.

 

“I’m not doing anything before you explain who you are.”

 

The woman seemed remarkably calm as she spoke. “My name is Carol Marcus; I believe we may be able to help one another.”


	2. Chapter 2

Her brief meeting with the Admiral’s daughter had been an interesting one. Rosalina had decided early on not to divulge any information about the facility, instead opting to test the other woman’s knowledge through carefully phrased questions. By the end of the evening, she had ascertained that Carol Marcus knew little more about the inner workings of Sector 31 than she did. Unlike Rosalina, however, she was able to access any files she requested from her father. She had supplied her with a Padd filled with various weapon designs. Some of the more ‘heavy duty’ blueprints were signed off with the name ‘John Harrison’. She vaguely recalled hearing the name being discussed by her colleagues at the coffee machine, back before the Admiral had one installed in her workroom. Maybe she would venture out, try and find the guy. Judging by the advanced nature of his weapons, and the sheer size of the things, he would likely know more about the Admiral’s game plan than her. Risking a glance at the Padd, she noted that Harrison answered directly to the Admiral, like she did. ‘Another asset, then’ she thought. Throwing caution to the wind, she walked out of her office and down the corridor. With a Padd in the crook of her arm and a determined look on her face, none of the guards stopped to ask her where she was going. She reached the end of the corridor, taking the stairs up to the next floor. Logically, the Admiral would want this guy closer to his private office, judging by the type of weapons he was creating. On the next floor, the spaces were larger; able to accommodate more equipment. And bigger prototypes. Just as she walked onto the corridor, a tall, serious man marched out of one of the rooms. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor, spinning to face her. Rosalina could barely contain her slight fear at his austere look.

 

“What are you doing on this corridor?”

 

“I’m… looking for someone.”

 

“And who might that be?”

 

Clearing her throat, she steeled herself. Whoever this was, he was a serious guy. His voice, stance; even the way his head tilted down to meet her eye was mildly threatening. She may as well be truthful.

 

“Mr John Harrison.”

 

“Why.”

 

“I have a few questions for him. Is his workspace on this floor?”

 

“This entire floor is my workspace. I am the one you seek. Follow me.”

 

Turning sharply on his heel, he marched down the corridor, leaving Rosalina to jog behind him. The way he carried himself was frighteningly militaristic, with his back ramrod straight. He was far more militaristic than the guards she had seen, and there seemingly weren’t any patrolling this corridor. _His_ corridor. She was slightly jealous that he had an entire floor to himself. They approached one of the central doors, which opened to reveal an office. It was completely devoid of personal touches, with monitors lining one entire wall. Another was covered in Padds; the now-familiar codes on each shelf revealed them to contain schematics for a whole range of weapons. He placed the Padd he was holding onto the desk before turning to her.

 

“What do you wish to ask me, Doctor Stark?”

 

His intense gaze seemed to bore into her skull; Rosalina was almost sure she could feel him rifling through her mind. Mentally shaking herself, she tried to focus.

 

“I’m not really sure… There are lots of things, and I don’t know if you’ll actually be able to answer any of them…”

 

“Why not?”

 

“They concern the Admiral and his intentions.”

 

That earned her a confused head tilt. “Admiral Marcus?”

 

“Yes. I was looking into him a few months back. I came across some weapons designs that weren’t on the official record, and secret weapons development doesn’t seem to be very in keeping with Starfleet’s role as a ‘peacekeeping and humanitarian armada’. I believe many of said designs could be attributed to you.”

 

“Admiral Marcus has commissioned many designs from me. Is there a specific weapon that piqued your interest?”

 

Gaining confidence, she walked to the wall of Padds, scanning the reference codes on the sides for the familiar digits. Harrison watched her intently, his gaze following her as she walked up and down the room, her finger sliding along the shelves.

 

“Not really. It was the sort codes on the files that seemed off, specifically the digits corresponding to Ship class. No Starship currently in service has the designation I saw. Added to the fact that there isn’t officially a Section 31 in Starfleet, I was rather suspicious. I worked out where the base was and came here a few months ago to see if I could find anything out.”

 

She finally saw a code she recognised, pulling the Padd of the shelf and powering it up. In three long strides he was beside her, looking over her shoulder at the schematics now showing on the Padd. It was one of the phaser designs she had scrutinised during her investigation. Clicking the Padd off, she turned to face Harrison, a look of concentration plastered on his features.

 

“You were responsible for the security breach?”

 

“Indeed I was.”

 

He nodded at that, almost seeming impressed. “And what did you discover?”

 

“That our dear friend Admiral Marcus is very good at… persuading people to work for him.” Harrison raised an eyebrow at her tone, but remained silent. “Judging by the proximity of your workspace to his office, I’m assuming you are another of the ‘assets’ he has here.”

 

“I am not aware of him using that term exactly, but I am working under his direct command. I assume the same applies to you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The distant sound of a door opening made her spin to face the door, jumping away from Harrison. As the approaching footsteps grew louder, Harrison calmly turned towards his desk as Rosalina hurriedly stuffed the Padd back into what she hoped was the right place mere moments before the Admiral himself walked through the door. Looking between the two, he smiled and made his way to the desk at the end of the room.

 

“I see you’ve been busy making friends, Doctor Stark. I hope all this socialising isn’t taking too much time away from your research?”

 

She should have thought this plan through before setting off; what excuse could she possibly have for being up here? In her first week, the Admiral had given her _very_ strict instructions not to wander around the facility. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed Harrison’s calm explanation.

 

“I have heard of Doctor Stark’s research into propulsion engines. Her expertise would help me overcome a minor hitch in my latest project; I had thought to show her the designs and gain her insight.”

 

“Well then, I shall leave you to it. Those blueprints had better be finished for our next meeting, John.” Slapping the younger man on the shoulder, Admiral Marcus made his way past Rosalina before stopping in the doorway. “And next time you need help, don’t bring her up here.”

 

Once Marcus’ retreating footsteps had faded into an uncomfortable silence, Rosalina turned to Harrison.

 

“Why did you do that?”

 

He walked over to the desk and picked up a datastick, ignoring her as he synched it to the Padd he was holding. After a few seconds he held it out to her.

 

“I have loaded the designs of my latest projects onto this. I believe your insight would be enlightening.”

 

Taking it from him, she held his gaze. “Why did you lie to the Admiral?”

 

After a moment’s consideration, Harrison spoke. “I believe our reason’s for taking the Admiral’s _generous_ offer of employment are quite similar. Perhaps we may be of use to one another.”

 

The two stood staring at one another for a few seconds, Harrison breaking the eye contact when he turned back to his desk. Taking it as a dismissal, Rosalina pocketed the datastick and walked briskly back to her workshop.


End file.
